Hoping
by Amanda Mancini
Summary: Draco/Ginny, slightly Ginny/Voldemort ~ Hoping hurts too.


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Title: Hoping**  
Author:** Amanda Mancini ( amancinisympatico.ca )**  
Rating:** R**  
Genre:** Horror/Angst**  
Summary:** Draco/Ginny, slightly Ginny/Voldemort Hoping hurts too.  
**Disclaimer:**All characters belong to J.K. Rowling, the plot is all-original.  
**Author's Note:** Firstly, some strange and important note son writing technique here, confusing changes in verb tenses. This fic happens in the present, with Draco recounting the past. Furthermore, I'm really sorry that I haven't produced anything sooner. I'm have writer's block of doom lately. I plan on writing more over the holidays, but then again, don't I always plan that? grin Anyway, this was just another image I got that I just had to write out. I hope it's not too boring.

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Originally posted 12-20-02  
Revised final version 05-23-04

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Hoping

"Love lives on hope, and dies when hope is dead; It is a flame which sinks for lack of fuel."   
--Charles Caleb Colton (1780-1832)

"Ginny!" he calls through the bars, hoping. As always, there is no answer.

Draco remembers how it all started, very vividly actually. It was one of the more gentle memories he was left with, since the dementors had sucked up all of the other ones. For some reason, all those of _her _remain.

__

_Smirk. Cringe. _So cold...

Yet Draco looks back at these souvenirs fondly. They are all he has left, and she was, afterall, his favourite.

In fact, Draco remembered as far back as his... second year, was it? Yes... Yes, The Chamber of Secrets had been opened, much to his pleasure. He'd so badly wanted to know who had done it, who the heir was, especially since so many had thought it had been him. As if that was even possible.

Surely, you can imagine how surprised he had been when he learned it had been that mousey Weasley girl, the very one he'd laughed at earlier in the year for giving Potter some pathetic singing valentine. Lucius had told him all about it that summer, how he'd slipped the diary in her school books. Draco himself even recalled that episode in Flourish & Blotts and hadn't noticed his father's quick hand.

It had been quite a good idea, Draco had thought then. Too bad it didn't work. Of course, at that time they didn't realise the true impact it had on her. The next time Draco noticed that poor mousey Weasley girl, he was surprised - almost disturbed - by the difference.

At the beginning of her first year, that girl had been loud. She laughed like a donkey, showed all her teeth and made her eyes turn to horizontal slits. She had been small, her face round like a little girls. Her voice was a high and shrill, and annoying too. Recognizable anywhere. You were never able to miss her because you were always pulled to that joyful -_ gag _- shrieking laughter.

How had she changed so?

Now, Draco didn't make a habit of stalking people, especially when they were Gryffindors as worthless as the Weasleys, but he did notice this girl's transgression into... well... her destiny.

That's a good term for it, Draco thinks with a smirk.

By her fifth year, his sixth, she had changed drastically. It began with The Chamber. That irritating laughter had stopped echoing through the halls, and no one said anything because they were probably glad of it too. (Draco bets they feel bad about it now.) She had grown to a height of 5'7, quite impressive for a woman. Her face had thinned, her cheek bones prominent. Fiery orange waves of hair reached her shoulders, and alas, the curves of her body were hidden by the standard school robes she wore. Oh, how they left so much to the imagination. Draco's curiosity had been left unsatisfied. Now he had no idea what her voice sounded like. She never spoke. And her eyes were so brown that they were almost black. Cold and empty. She was like a shell void of its former innocence. Where and the child gone?

He remembers what a year that was, so full of surprises. In his sixth year, during the Christmas Holidays, it was then that he was initiated as a Death Eater. He'd been quite anxious to get it done, actually. It had been his greatest ambition since Voldemort's resurrection. He'd wanted the power. He wanted to make his Father proud of him.

Of course, he wanted the purity of blood too. What, do you honestly think he _only _did it for his dad? Most likely there were a few who were daft enough to believe it but Draco truly had his reasons for hating muggles. Draco still remembers that, too. Every day, actually, he is reminded of that one time, just before going to Hogwarts. He snuck out of Diagon Alley, out of the Leaky Cauldron, tempted by his curiosity of the muggle world. He's been walking down a very busy road full of those muggle machines with wheels. Too much smoke, it hurt his throat, so he turned into an alley. He hadn't noticed the van there until he stood right in next of it. A man jumped out through the back and pulled him into the van with him -

Draco shudders at the memory, and tries to push it away. Damn those mudbloods. How can they do that to their younger generations? Sick. Sick. Bad... people... They deserved to die. They deserve to die for doing... _that. _Even life in Azkaban won't change Draco's mind on that.

And so, Draco became a Death Eater to destroy the plague that was corrupting the magical world. Following his father's advice, he'd taken extra care dress impressively, not that he didn't do that already, but he had to be perfect. He had to be strong.

Lucius took him somewhere, a special place. Draco had never been there before, but he knew now that place was reserved for initiations. Lucius had recieved his own there, in some forest under the darkness of dense foliage. A cold, unsympathetic place lit only by an impressive bonfire by which many Death Eaters gathered near, their black bodies silhouetted against the flames. All of them were masked too, except of course those who had not yet "become". Draco looked at their faces eagerly to see if he recognised them. Every so often, the fire would turn a blood red color, and another unmasked figure would step out, as if through some kind of Floo Network, just as he himself had arrived there.

As the waiting period came to a close, Draco was disappointed to see that there wasn't anyone he knew. In fact, there was not even anyone who had graduated from school. Surely, some former Slytherins would come? But not of them did. They were probably all home, eating something tasty with their families in front of a roaring fire, planning for Christmas or some equally cheery holiday. Of course, that was probably what most families were doing on that cold December night. Draco could have been at home on his winter holiday, or at school enjoying some great feast.

That's why he was so surprised when _she _arrived. Holiday cheer had always seemed right up her family's alley and he had always pictured her right there next to them. But she wasn't now, was she?

Ginny Weasley had just arrived at a Death Eater initiation. Yes, it sounded that absurd to Draco's ears as well but he had the living proof of it right before his very eyes. It seemed she's also dressed to impress, Draco thought in approval. He hair flowing red hair now reached her mid-back, her eyes were alight (though maybe that was just the reflection of the fire) and the corners of her mouth were twisted upward in a pleased half-smile.

It was the first smile that he'd seen on her face in a long, long time.

And when they were herded into the line up before their master, she stood right up front, when it seemed that the other initiates ... or traitors, Draco decides instead, seemed to cower behind them. She was even the second one to be marked (he had been the first. Did you doubt it for a second?) He raised a subtle eyebrow as she kneeled before Voldemort, not even flinching during the process that had caused others to shriek and writhe in pain. Draco had taken the marking, the _burning _win silence and respect as well, but he'd been preparing for it for a long time. He felt slightly impressed.

Then they pulled on their hoods. Draco lost sight of her amidst a sea of blackness.

Draco stretches a bit in his cell. It's such a small space and his arms and legs always feel cramped. With one hand, he grabs old of the bars that make the cell door and to peer into the hall. It's so dark that he can't see. How long has it been darK? he wonders, because it feels like forever. And how long has he been in the cell again? Does it really matter? The cell isn't that bad, he thinks... but the blackness...

"Ginny!" he calls through the bars, hoping. As always, there is no answer.

The fact that she was a Weasley didn't stop Draco from conversing with her. Afterall, if she was good enough for Voldemort, she was good enough for Draco. They'd share smirks and mock glares in the halls, owl each other every so often, and on the occasion, even meet somewhere for chit chat. They became Death Eaters and developed a friendship both inside and outside the organization. And nobody ever caught on. They both graduated from Hogwarts, one year apart, and no one ever noted their rendezvous.

Looking back, she truly had been Draco's favourite person. Not a best friend, Draco thinks, because he never had one _those._ _They_ were the kind you'd tell your secrets to, right? Have fun, exciting times with? Go on trips together? Send each other Christmas cards? No, Draco had never had one of _those _before, but he supposes that she was the closest he ever got to one. She wasn't a girlfriend, either, really. During their friendship they had slept together numerous times, but Draco had also been with many other women (and she many other men.) Draco used to find her hair in his bed even days after she'd been there. Long red curls that he almost looked forward to finding.

Their times together had never been awkward or irritating, but rather enjoyable. During their service to their master he'd always enjoyed working with her in particular. Ginny had always been a very organized woman, skillful, intelligent, quite magically adept, and efficient too. Together their tasks went so smoothly and flawlessly. Without a doubt she was an essential help to their side. Voldemort knew it as well and constantly showered his Ginny, his chosen one, with praising words and affectionate _touches. _Draco smirks at the memory. Personally, he grins, he thinks that Voldemort was fond of her for her _other skills_...

Draco Malfoy and Ginny Weasley, they must have been the Dark Lord's most faithful supporters. By the year 2000, everyone knew it too. When the clock struck midnight, that split second between the two years, Voldemort had gained complete control over most of Europe. For four years, the two basked in the glory that rewarded their hard work. Ginny took the joy of executing most of her family members. Hell, Draco himself killed his father, the bastard, who had turned traitor on them to Dumbledore. Stupid fool didn't know what was good for him, it seems. They had both become the elites of society, highest ranking, most wealthy, and they enjoyed every minute of it.

Who would have thought Lucius Malfoy had turned to the light side? Who would have thought the egotistical pureblood had been repulsed and ashamed of what he had become, and who would have though that Lucius Malfoy would had actually delivered enough information to give the Order of the Phoenix a fighting chance.

It took two years. By 2002 Draco and Ginny were 22 and 21 years of age respectively. Even though he still doesn't understand it all, Draco still vividly remembers that last scene. Their numbers had been dropping, and from out of nowhere, the light side had attacked them by surprise. They had gotten into the fortress, so many of them, and it was only a matter of time... They knew how destroy the Dark Lord... Only a matter of time. Damn them all into eternity.

Draco remembers how he held her hand as they ran through the halls, trying to get away from them, to the center of the fortress when they would be safe with their Master. That woman who he respected so much, who he had always respected and admired and even _cared _for, in his own way - Draco remembers how badly he'd wanted to save her.

They had been so close! They had been just outside the door of the great hall when members from that blasted Order of the Phoenix had appeared and attacked them. Draco felt Ginny be ripped away from him. He kicked and bit and cursed all he could to get their hands off him, so he could just get to his master. He knew she was doing the same, and that she could feel that odd numbness on her left forearm as well, where the Dark mark had been branded into them.

An eerie white glow was coming from under the door...

"Master!" Draco cried, "Ginny!" As if she had read his thoughts, Ginny broke away from her captors and threw open the doors. They opened just in time for them all to see Voldemort black carcass shrivel to the floor. Next to him, was the source of that whiteness. Potter, damn him, his wand still smoking. What a bloody surprise.

"It's over," he said to the others, the ones on _his _side. "We've won!"

"No!" Ginny hollered abruptly, and everyone looked to her, shocked. She looked almost beautiful, those tears streaming down her face, the hysterical madness in her eyes. "Master! Master!" She ran to his body, touched his shoulders, his chest, but the Dark Lord was still. Dead. Gone. Permanently.

The others rushed up to her and pulled her back but no one ever could (or ever will, Draco adds smirking) restrain her. With a last, raging, murderous, _desperate _scream, she pulled out her wand before anyone could stop her and pointed it at Potter's head.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

With a flash of green, it was Potter's turn to crumple to the floor. In a rush they stunned her and the dementors were brought in to take her away. No matter how hard Draco fought, he just couldn't get loose.

"Ginny! Ginny!" he yelled and reached out for her but she was already gone. He never saw her again.

Draco doesn't know how long he's been in this cell, in the darkest depths of Azkaban, but no matter where they put him he always waits for her.

"Ginny!" he calls through the bars, hoping. As always, there is no answer.

The way Draco sees it, he'll meet her again soon. Afterall, where else would they put her if not the absolute worst place along with him? With his last shreds of hope, he again pushes the dementors from his mind. They took her away... Surely, they brought her to Azkaban and not... not...

Draco flinches and gags. He'd probably vomit if he had food in his stomach... The sensation eventually passes.

He still remembers Ginny's kisses... and he hopes that maybe, just maybe, he'll feel those again too...

"Ginny!" he calls through the bars, hoping...

"Hope is the only universal liar who never loses his reputation for veracity."   
Dr. Thomas Fuller (1608-61)


End file.
